


love me like there ain't another day

by brookethenerd



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Dreams, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Post-Season/Series 04, Reunions, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:14:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22445413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookethenerd/pseuds/brookethenerd
Summary: Lucifer visits Chloe in a dream
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 7
Kudos: 147





	love me like there ain't another day

The penthouse is just as Chloe remembers despite not setting foot on the block since Lucifer’s…disappearance. She doesn’t know what else to call it - his _sacrifice_ , his _departure_. All she does know is that somehow, someway, she’s standing next to his slick, dark piano, and the Los Angeles nighttime skyline is shining through the floor to ceiling windows along the far wall, and the once-sheet-covered furniture has been restored to its former glory. As if its inhabitant never left at all.

“Detective,” the sultry voice comes from somewhere to her left, so familiar, but so impossible, “I wasn’t quite sure this would work, but it appears I still manage to impress even myself.”

She turns slowly, heart beating like a kick drum in her chest, fear and hope and longing and a million other emotions stirring inside her.

Lucifer Morningstar is in Hell. He has been for two months, since he left to attend to the flimsy, capsizing boat of the Underworld.

And yet, like some kind of miracle - ironic word choice, Lucifer would say - he’s standing right in front of her, donning an expensive three-piece suit, giving her that glittering smile like he used to. He looks mostly the same, but the changes are impossible to miss; the edge in his eyes, the soot he doesn’t seem to realize is streaked above one eyebrow, the healing-slash through his cheek, the tense set of his shoulders. _A King._ But still hers.

“Lucifer,” she breathes, not daring to blink for fear he’d disappeared. She’s had this dream before - a reunion, an end to the endless agony - but never has it felt so real, never has it been so _tangible_. Chloe reaches out to touch the piano beside her without breaking from Lucifer’s gaze, a gasp slipping past her lips when her fingers touch hardwood.

_Real_.

“What…how are you…how are you _here_ , right now?” She asks, approaching him slowly, willing her legs to stay steady beneath her, willing his image to remain in front of her. Lucifer’s smile widens, and he tilts his head ever so slightly.

“You’re dreaming, Detective,” he says. Her brows pull together, and she stops a foot away from him; he looks so real; she can smell that ridiculously expensive cologne of his, the scent she hasn’t realized she’s missed until now, now that she feels the aching in her chest.

She’s missed him so, so badly.

Her heart sinks at the realization that he’s just another figment of her imagination; that the real Lucifer is still lost to her.

“Oh.” She backs up a step, shaking her head. “This-this isn’t real.”

Lucifer’s smile falters for a beat and he takes the step she just took back. He reaches out, fingers skimming her cheeks, making her lose her breath.

“That very much depends on what you consider real,” he says. “As it turns out, one of my more elusive skillsets includes dream-hopping. It’s a bit more technical than that, but to make a long story short, I _am_ here, and I am _real_.”

“Dream-hopping? I don’t understand.”

His smile turns a little bit sad, eyes just a little bit soft, though the bravado remains in his tone.

“As much as I’d love to spend this time discussing the technicalities of my newfound abilities, it is somewhat limited, and, well…” he pauses, gaze skating her up and down, “It’s been quite a long time since I’ve had a look at you,” he says, rendering her silent. Her stomach twists and she lets her hands climb to his chest, shocked when they find purchase on fabric above skin. She nudges the fabric open, revealing the tanned bare skin beneath it, and traces a finger along the spot she’d once cut with an ax, an eternity ago.

His breath hitches and he looks at her with the expression reserved for her - the one in which he isn’t the club owner, or the favor guy, or the Devil, but _Lucifer_ , the man who’d jumped in front of that very ax for her.

“Are you alright, Lucifer? Down there…in Hell…” she doesn’t quite know how to ask the question. What does one say to the man they’re in love with that spends his days in the underworld? How is she supposed to make that into a casual conversation?

He gives her what is obviously a fake smile, hands settling on her arms, squeezing once in reassurance.

“That doesn’t matter,” he says. “All that matters is that I’m here, with you, now.”

“Lucifer…” She wants to argue - wants to know every detail and turn it into a case to be solved - but they don’t have much time; they’ve _never_ had enough time.

“How are you, my love?” The pet name makes her unbearably sad and overwhelmingly happy, the emotions fighting for dominance inside her. “I imagine your closure rate has diminished _drastically_ in my absence.”

She can’t help but smile.

“It has been tough, but I’ve managed.” It’s meant to come out light to match his somewhat joking tone, but the words fall flat. Lucifer’s lips pull into a thin line and his hands trail up her arms to cup her face.

“I’m sorry, Chloe,” he says, the use of her given name making her gut twist, “for what I’ve put you through.”

“Hey,” she says, hands coming up to settle atop his, “don’t you dare apologize. What you did…you did to save all of us.”

“And to do it, I had to leave you behind.” His features contort, guilt flashing in his eyes. “It is the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

“I know,” she says softly. “But I’m not angry at you for doing it.”

His face softens, all his hard lines smoothed away beneath her touch. He takes one of her hands and turns her wrist, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin and letting it fall away.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says.

“You deserve _whatever_ you want,” she says. “You’re a _good_ man.”

“A good Devil,” he quips, lips quirking up, “an oxymoron if I’ve ever heard one.”

She smiles, but the happiness is short-lived; it’s too easy to remember where she is, to remember that this is only half real. That she’ll wake up, and Lucifer will still be gone.

Tears well in her eyes despite her best efforts and she drops her gaze, jaw tightening. Lucifer tips her chin back up, forcing her to meet his eyes, his brows furrowing.

“No time for tears, darling,” he says softly.

Chloe closes her eyes, and whispers, “I miss you. I miss you so much.”

Lucifer’s hands move to slip around her waist, pulling her against him. She winds her arms around him and buries her face in the velvety fabric of his coat; she feels him duck his chin to press his lips to her head. He holds her tight, a vice grip around her, and she’s forgotten how much he feels like _home_.

“I miss you, too,” he murmurs, “more than you will ever know.”

She pulls back to look at him, knowing her desperation is just as pointless as it was the last time she asked him to stay, but she can’t help it; she can’t help but keep trying until she can’t anymore.

Lucifer wouldn’t stop fighting for her; she refuses to stop fighting for him. Even if all fighting is is believing; believing in _him_. She’ll do it until she no longer can.

“I know that it’s selfish of me to ask you to stay,” she says, “ _I know_ I can’t. But I…I still don’t want you to go _.”_ Her voice breaks on the last word.

His fingers ghost across her neck, caressing her cheeks and drawing her toward him. He doesn’t kiss her, though; he simply tips his forehead against hers and lets out a sigh.

“If there were any way for me to stay,” he says, “to stay with _you_ , I hope you know I’d do it in a heartbeat. _Without hesitation._ I need you to know that.”

She opens her eyes and he pulls back just enough to hold her gaze. She gets the sense he’d be content to spend eternity looking at her; she’d trade almost anything for the same thing. She’d trade almost anything to have him here - really _here_.

She wants more; she wants him back as a partner, and she wants to have him over for game nights with Trixie, and she wants to kiss him without knowing they’re on borrowed time.

But she can’t have any of these things; that’s what happens when you fall for the hero. And that’s what Lucifer is, even if he’ll never admit it; even if he always sees himself as evil, Chloe knows the truth. She knows that he is the Devil, but that he’s also an Angel. She knows that she loves both parts of him more than she’s ever loved anyone else.

It’s all so unfair, so goddamn unfair. After all they’ve been through, after everything they’ve achieved and lost, it’s so incredibly unfair not to get a happy ending. Even if happy endings are just for stories, Chloe had let herself believe they could have one. But she was wrong.

“I know,” she says, nodding with a sad, tiny smile.

His lips curve up in a smile, and his gaze drops, lingering on her chest, a frown tugging down on his lips. He slips a finger around the chain around her neck and lifts the bullet casing out from behind the fabric of her shirt, jaw tightening.

“I never take it off,” she says.

“Not even in the shower? I’d _love_ to see that,” he says, but it’s only half-teasing; the other half is clear surprise.

“It…reminds me that you’re always with me.”

“And I always will be,” he says. He leans toward her and she tips her chin up and closes her eyes in expectation.

It’s the gentlest of kisses, even more careful than their last, all hesitant movements and the brushing of lips, as if he’s afraid she’ll break or disappear. One of his hands moves to cup the back of her neck, the other gripping her waist, tugging her flush against him. She savors the soft prickle of the shadow on his chin - does one have time to shave in Hell? - and the way he kisses her like he’s never been more certain of anything than he is of her, and thinks she’ll never get enough of this, of him. It’s the kind of kiss that aches and hurts but heals and saves at the same time; the kind that blows all other kisses out of the water.

But it ends, as it has to, when Lucifer pulls away, not releasing her from his grip, his lips parted, eyes blown. He traces the line of her jaw with his thumb, gaze falling to the necklace he gifted her for a beat before meeting hers again. She knows what he’s going to say before he does; she wants to force his mouth shut and keep him from saying it, keep him here in this dreamworld forever.

“Our time is almost up, darling,” he says.

“I can’t say goodbye to you.” Chloe shakes her head, sadness blooming in her chest. “Not again.”

“Nor I you,” he says. “So, we won’t say goodbye. We’ll say…see you later. Because you will see me later, Detective. I promise you.”

Chloe stretches up on her toes, Lucifer’s face cupped in her cheeks, and presses a kiss to her forehead; it makes Lucifer gasp, a beautiful and surprising noise.

“Come back to me,” she whispers, and kisses him again, one last time. He smiles against her lips, but when he pulls away, his eyes are laden sorrow.

“I will always come back to you, Chloe Decker.” He touches her cheek once more, and the world around Chloe’s eyes goes fuzzy, darkens, and she knows this is it; she’s waking up and he returning to Hell.

The last thing she hears before she wakes is that word: _always_. She has no choice but to put her faith in it; to put her faith in him. And if there’s anything she’s learned, it’s that putting her faith in Lucifer Morningstar is the right choice.


End file.
